


the shape of things to come

by SadieFlood



Category: New Year's Eve (2011)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 09:04:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8884999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadieFlood/pseuds/SadieFlood
Summary: It turns out that one great day isn't quite enough to change a person's entire life. Ingrid's still a little set in her ways.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mpatientdreamr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mpatientdreamr/gifts).



12/31/12

Ingrid definitely needs another drink. Or ten.

Why did she even agree to come to this party?

Oh, that's right. Because she's still trying to be bolder, more confident, a better version of herself. Because even one great day a year ago didn't change her entire personality. But would even a better version of herself enjoy social gatherings with people she doesn't know?

Like, for instance, Paul's sister and her boyfriend, also known as the owner of the company to which Ingrid devoted the best years of her life before spontaneously quitting one year ago today?

Paul practically propelled her through the door with his hand on her back, as if he knew that she'd turn around and flee at the first opportunity without a little push, but then he just _left_ her to announce his presence.

To be fair, he did ask if she was okay before he went off to mingle. What was she supposed to say? He's young, he loves parties, he shouldn't be tethered to his weird... friend? all night.

He appears out of nowhere to thrust a glass of wine into her hand. "My sister is in a Mood with a capital M. Don't take it personally," he says.

"Sure," she mutters. He squeezes her arm and then disappears again. Oh, God, she wants to be anywhere else, but she'd especially prefer to be curled up on her couch, watching the last few Christmas movies of the season with Mr. Snugglepuss, dozing off before midnight--a _normal_ New Year's Eve. Well, normal before Mr. Snugglepuss; that part would be new. 

"You're Ingrid," says a well-dressed, frazzled-looking woman in sensible shoes.

She smiles, a reflex.

"I mean... _you're_ Ingrid. _The_ Ingrid."

"Yes?" She blinks.

"No, I just--" Kim seems to recover her faculties, shaking her head and smiling. "I mean, welcome. I've heard a _lot_ about you from Paul, he told me about how you encouraged him to finish his degree, work on getting a real job, it's amazing. I just didn't..."

"You didn't picture me," Ingrid says. "That's OK, I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing here. But congratulations on your anniversary," she adds hastily.

"Oh, thanks!" Kim cranes her neck. "You'll have to excuse me, I--Hailey! We _talked_ about this!"

And then she's gone.

Paul appears in her place, grinning, bearing another glass of wine. "You two really hit it off, huh?"

Ingrid opens and closes her mouth. "She seems nice. And busy."

"Yeah, she's got a lot going on." He pauses. "You know, it's kind of our anniversary, too."

"Oh yeah, the day we met," she says.

He feigns outrage. "Of the day I made literally all of your insane New Year's wishes come true. Which, by the way, was _not_ the day we met."

"Oh, yeah," she says slowly. "Was that today?"

"Yeah. December 31st. You should mark it on your calendar for next year."

"Hmm," she says. "I guess I sort of remember that."

"Well, happy anniversary." He clinks his glass against hers. "What is this one, paper?"

"I don't think that applies to us." But she's smiling at him, like an idiot.

What is _wrong_ with her?

She makes a show of looking at her watch. "I actually have to get going."

"It's New Year's Eve," he says.

"I promised my neighbor I'd pick up Mr. Snugglepuss by 10."

"You want a ride?"

"No, I'm fine," she says, handing him her glass. "Your sister needs your support. I'll see you... sometime. Happy new year!"

"Happy new year," he echoes as the door closes behind her.

*

12/31/13

It's 11:59 p.m.

On television, Ryan Seacrest and some young actress/pop star/model Ingrid doesn't recognize are preparing for the countdown.

Mr. Snugglepuss is resting comfortably between Ingrid and Paul on Ingrid's couch. He's snoring a little.

And Paul is looking at her very intently.

How did this happen?

That question is off limits, she reminds herself. So is "what are we _doing_?" Along with anything else that might jolt either one of them back to reality.

Paul came over the day after Christmas to give Mr. Snugglepuss a present and just never left. Well, he left -- he still had to work, of course, and so did she -- but every night, he was sitting at the other end of the couch making her watch some stupid comedy she hadn't seen, or sprawled on the floor eating popcorn, or giving Mr. Snugglepuss a workout by racing at top speed up and down the hallway.

Ingrid doesn't mind, but she has firmly enforced the appropriate boundaries all week. They had agreed that what happened on January 1, 2012 would never be discussed and would definitely never happen again. A _lot_ of alcohol had been involved, not to mention dancing. A one-time thing.

And yet--

It _is_ New Year's Eve, after all.

Seacrest's halfway through the countdown when Paul kisses her.

This time, she kisses him back until Mr. Snugglepuss yelps and leaps off the couch.

So much for boundaries.

*

12/31/14 

Ingrid's resolution not to ask _what are we doing_ lasted about as long as her 2013 resolution to go on a brisk 5-mile walk with Mr. Snugglepuss every morning before work, which is to say about two weeks.

At first, Paul had taken it in stride, but after a few weeks he'd gotten the idea that Ingrid was trying to let him down easy. Great. She was, right?

So that's why she's alone on the couch, on New Year's Eve, watching the last Christmas movies of the season with Mr. Snugglepuss.

A normal New Year's Eve. Just like she wanted.

Her phone rings around 10. She doesn't answer it.

It rings again at 10:30.

When it rings at 11, she goes to bed.

Maybe 2015 will be better.

Probably not.

*

12/31/15

In the spring, Paul started coming over again to take Mr. Snugglepuss for walks. They couldn't really share custody; Paul's apartment didn't allow dogs. But he insisted that "Mr. S" needed more exercise than Ingrid was giving him, and she couldn't argue with that. Besides, Mr. Snugglepuss was just so happy to see him again.

In early December, he invited her to come along with him and his friend Randy to watch Randy's girlfriend Elise sing backup for Jensen on New Year's Eve. Jensen was playing an intimate show at Joe's Pub, and Paul assured her that tickets are _very_ hard to come by.

Ingrid's resolution for 2015 was to accept every invitation, and she'd managed to keep it so far, going out with her coworkers now and then. She'd even gone on a few terrible first dates, and a couple of even more horrible second dates. Her year of yes was really going well.

Unfortunately, Ingrid has always hated Jensen, and while she might have tolerated his music in the interest of keeping her resolution going until 2016, she was even less fond of Paul's friend Randy.

After their awkward introduction, Paul's sister had more or less been genial on the few occasions they'd met after the anniversary party. Conversely, Paul had coaxed her out to dinner with Randy exactly twice, and both times she'd felt the skepticism and disapproval radiating off of him, which only made her irritated and defensive, even though at the time she'd secretly felt his doubts about her _whatever_ -ship with Paul might be warranted.

But why spend New Year's Eve listening to music she can't stand in the company of someone she doesn't like, with her hackles raised all evening?

So she had to politely decline her first invitation of 2016. She didn't bother explaining her rationale; she was sure Paul could find someone else who had bad taste in music and hadn't had the pleasure of meeting Randy yet

She's looking forward to another quiet New Year's Eve with Mr. Snugglepuss.

At 9 p.m. sharp, there's a knock on her door.

"I wasn't going tonight, remember?" she says by way of greeting.

He shrugs. "Elise is cool and all, but I don't actually like Jensen. Music for boring people."

He means _old_ , she thinks.

"I gave it to this guy at work who loves Jensen almost as much as he loves Billy Joel." He wrinkles his nose.

She can't help but smile. "Billy Joel has a couple of okay songs."

"No, he doesn't," he says, but he's smiling. "Want to go do something fun instead?"

She considers it. "I don't know. I've already broken my resolution for 2015."

"Wait, what resolution?"

"I was going to say yes to every invitation this year, but Jensen ruined my streak." And Randy, she does not say.

"Shit, my bad," he says. "Well, I retract that invite, I thought you would like Jensen."

"You thought I was boring?" _Old._ Makes sense.

"I don't know, I lost my mind for a second, I guess," he says. "Anyway, I retract that invitation and replace it with the new one. So you have to say yes."

She doesn't actually have to say yes. But she does anyway.

*

12/31/16

"Ugh," Paul says. "I'm so tired and it's only 10. What's wrong with me? Do you think I'm coming down with something?"

"Yeah, old age," Ingrid says. "Welcome to my life. Want to set an alarm for midnight?"

"No!"

"Okay, okay." She holds her hands up in mock surrender. "Want to go find an adventure?"

"My New Year's resolution for 2016 was actually to stay in more often," he says. "Wouldn't want to break it now."

"No, it wasn't," she says, but she's smiling at him, like an idiot.

"Yuh huh," he says, and, like an even bigger idiot, she kisses him.

What is _wrong_ with her?

Right now? Nothing.


End file.
